


The Type To Care About Other People

by obsidianlullaby



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 11:21:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2810357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsidianlullaby/pseuds/obsidianlullaby
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selina’s made this mistake before. That’s the worst part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Type To Care About Other People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [igrockspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/igrockspock/gifts).



> I haven't seen all of Gotham, I apologize if I made any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Selina’s wiping away tears by the time she gets back to the apartment she’s been sleeping in. It’s owner got on Falcone’s bad side and was taken out months ago. No one’s reported him missing--the cops won’t come around the apartment until they find his body (which may never happen) or need to ask him some questions (which may happen any day). It’s a relatively nice place to stay. Selina’s doesn’t expect it to last.

Selina’s used to things not lasting.

She climbs in through the window and curls up on the bed. It’s lumpy and the blanket scratches at her skin. Doesn’t really compare to the luxury of the Wayne Manor.

She wishes it were the loss of luxury that she were crying over.

 _Get it together, Cat,_ she thinks.

“What’s wrong with you?” a small voice asks, and Selina jumps. She’s backing up to the window before she processes the fact that she knows that voice.

Ivy’s sitting in a shadowy corner, small enough that Selina missed her on her half-hearted cautionary glance around the room when she first entered.

Someone at the Flea must have told Ivy where Selina was staying. Selina was going to find out who, and they were going to have some words.

“What’re you doing here, Ivy?” Selina asks, not moving from her place against the exit. Ivy’s dangerous. Selina learned that the hard way.

Ivy shrugs. “Nowhere else to go.”

“Okay,” Selina says, holding up her hands. “You can have the place. I’ll find somewhere else.”

“We can share the bed,” Ivy says, standing.

If Selina could have done so, she would have taken another step back. “No, really, it’s okay,” she tries to insist.

Ivy’s eyes fall on Selina, and a chill runs down her spine.

“Why are you being so weird?” Ivy asks, jumping onto the bed. “Is this about Bruce Wayne?”

Selina freezes. _Right,_ she thinks. _Ivy knows about that. Great._

“No, Ivy, it’s about you,” Selina says.

“Oh,” Ivy says. “Well, get over it.”

“I can’t just ‘get over it,’” Selina says, trying for icy. “You killed somebody.”

“It was kill or be killed,” Ivy says, smoothly. “Come on, I want you to brush my hair before we go to sleep.”

Selina feels the sill of the window digging into her back. She could run, but she’s been careful not to make an enemy of Ivy all this time. She tells herself that that’s what compels her toward the bed--not some remnants of whatever compassion she once held for Ivy Pepper.

Ivy holds out a brush to her, which Selina takes before taking her place at Ivy’s back.

“How’d you end up friends with with the baby billionaire?” Ivy asks as Selina begins working on the knotted mess of Ivy’s hair.

“It’s… complicated,” Selina says, and she thinks it’s to her credit that she doesn’t accidentally rip out a chunk of Ivy’s hair.

“Isn’t everything?” Ivy asks. “Come on, what’s the--”

Ivy’s cut off by the sound of someone screaming. She and Selina are both instantly alert.

“It came from inside the building,” Ivy says, her voice barely a whisper.

“Out the window,” Selina says.

It’s still open from before, for which Selina is grateful. No need to make noise there. Selina helps Ivy out, onto the fire escape, and then clambers out herself.

Ivy’s noisy, as she descends the fire escape. Selina cringes with each clang and clunk. She could be on the ground already, but she wouldn’t be able to spot Ivy from down there.

Someone’s head appears from the window--the woman who had appeared at the Wayne Manor, who had chased them down at Clyde’s. She spots them and starts yelling orders back into the room.

Selina swears. “Ivy, jump!”

Ivy looks at Selina for a split second, looks at the ground--still a good ten feet away--and jumps.

She lets out an aborted cry when she collides with the pavement.

Selina lands gracefully beside Ivy, and scoops the younger girl up into her arms. Ivy’s not crying, even though it must have hurt her badly, and Selina can’t stand to think right now about why Ivy’s pain tolerance is so high. She can only be, bitterly, angrily thankful for it.

“Can you walk?” Selina asks.

Ivy grits her teeth and nods.

They set off, Ivy hobbling along as fast as she can, Selina itching to run but matching Ivy’s pace instead. They rely on their diminutive size and the shadows of the alley until they get onto a main street, where they disappear into the crowd.

 

Selina knows it must have been someone at the Flea who sold her out to the contract killers. She also knows the police force is corrupt and she has no assurance of getting to Gordon. She doesn’t have a choice, she tells herself, as she rings the doorbell to Wayne Manor with Ivy trembling behind her.

Alfred answers, of course.

“Ms. Kyle,” he says, face unreadable.

“Hey, grandpa,” Selina says, reaching behind herself to grab Ivy’s hand. “Bruce here?”

Selina’s not sure what Alfred would have answered, because Bruce begins loudly demanding, from the sitting room probably, to be told who is at the door.

Alfred clears his throat. “It’s Ms. Kyle,” he answers. “With a friend.”

“Selina?” A second later, Alfred is shoved aside and the door swings open. Bruce looks positively delighted. His gaze lights on Ivy, and confusion flashes across his features. “Um, hey Ivy.” He gives Selina a look that is clearly meant to say, _I thought she was scary?_

Selina ignores it. “They found me again.”

“Perhaps the police…?” Alfred tries to sound firm, but Bruce shoots him a look and ushers Selina and Ivy inside. “Master Bruce, really, I must point out that this _puts you in danger_ \--”

“Call Detective Gordon,” Bruce suggests. “He’ll make sure we’re safe.”

“He won’t be able to get out here right away.”

“That’s okay,” Bruce nods. “You protected us once. I trust you to keep us safe, Alfred.”

Alfred, apparently, has nothing to say to that.

 

The three of them, Selina, Ivy, and Bruce, eat dinner on the floor of the sitting room. They talk. Bruce about his parents, Ivy about plants, Selina about nothing in particular. She mainly chimes in to make jokes at their expense, but they both just smile gently, trustingly at her.

The chunk of bread she tries to swallow goes down with difficulty.

 _They’re in danger because of you,_ a voice in her head points out. _You’re in danger because of them._

When they’ve both fallen asleep, her eyes drift towards the window.

She stays.


End file.
